


A Pressing Engagement

by keelywolfe



Series: 'By Any Other Name' AU's [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dating, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Labeling things can be difficult, for everyone involved
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Spicyhoney, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus
Series: 'By Any Other Name' AU's [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891192
Comments: 70
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, I don't know, this sort of popped into my brain today and sometimes, I like to see the maybes and might haves.

* * *

It wasn’t a date, really. More like a standing lunch appointment where they met up wherever the local food trucks were congregating that day. Edge was a fussy bitch when it came to food, but what kind of monster (heh) would turn down fresh seafood po’ boys with truffle Parmesan fries? Not one that Stretch wanted to hang out with, for sure.

The trucks were always busy, Humans and Monsters lining up for tasty treats. Using Edge’s strategy of divide and conquer, they queued in separate lines, gathering up a collection of paper trays lined with greasy waxed paper and holding heavenly balls of deep-fried goodness, along with the less heavenly but still delicious vegan junk that Edge always wanted, under the theory that unhealthy plus good for you would sort of cancel each other out into balanced nutrition.

Look, if it got him food, Stretch was willing to bend science a little. 

The park was crowded, any tables were already claimed, if not by people than by their possessions. By the time Stretch was juggling their po’ boys and fries, Edge was through the vegan line and sitting under a tree in the grass, their Buddha bowls and moussaka artfully arranged around him. The pastoral serenity of the scene contrasted in interesting ways to the leather-clad skeleton in the middle of it all and if Stretch didn’t know that Edge would object, loudly and strenuously, he would’ve taken a picture. Called it modern art, skeleton on a theme of lunch.

“hope you grabbed napkins,” Stretch said cheerfully, plopping down in the grass to lay out his own spread. 

“I did not. I brought my own,” Edge said, because of course he did, every week. Linen napkins that they both spread over their laps as they shared out the goods and dug in. Strange how growing up in murder world made a guy into a terminal recycler, but Edge was a guy who understood living under strict limitations. 

The first bite of his po’ boy made Stretch groan aloud, greedily chewing fried blobs of briny shrimp and oysters couched in a bed of crisp lettuce and tomato. Waterfall aside, there wasn’t much seafood in the Underground and Stretch got a serious appreciation for it once they hit the Aboveground. Edge liked surfing on the ocean more than eating what was swimming in it and even he was eating appreciatively. 

It was all good, tasty food, sunny day, perfectly awesome even if it wasn’t actually a date, and if it ended with them heading back to one of their places for some rough and rowdy bootknockin’, eh, well, that was kinda how Stretch liked it. They didn’t _need_ it to be an official date, seriously, that was for people who just started going out, not for guys who’d been together for a few years. Once you’d shared a toothbrush, you didn’t need that kind of shit, right, and Stretch was pretty sure Edge’d forgiven him for that, he’d only done it the once and only because he couldn’t get the taste of garlic off his teeth. That was the last time he tried aioli on their not-dates.

Dessert was rice pudding with fresh mango and around a spoonful of creamy deliciousness Stretch mumbled out, “so, how about undyne and alphys finally tying the knot, huh?”

“Ridiculous,” Edge scoffed.

“right? i always figured them for getting married two weeks after their first date, took ‘em long enough—” Stretch trailed off as Edge scoffed again, louder and with some dangerous spoon waving to go with it.

“Marriage is a ridiculous institution,” Edge said irritably. “If you need to be married in order to feel as though you’re committed to one another, then the relationship is already doomed to failure. But then, most supposedly committed relationships are.” He took a fierce bite of his pudding, teeth closing dangerously around the poor, abused spoon. “That’s why I prefer what we have. No ties, no strings, you live in your apartment and I share my house with my brother. It works for both of us and we don’t need any absurd social constructs to determine what we are for each other.”

It took a minute for Stretch to realize Edge was looking at him expectantly, “yeah,” he said belatedly, rolling his shoulders laconically before leaning against the rough trunk of the tree shading them, “yeah, no strings, no ties, free as birds, tweet tweet.”

That earned him a chuckle, “Tweet tweet?”

“you prefer caw caw?” Stretch teased and his voice was normal, easy. Good. “grackle? i’d give you a kookaburra cackle but last time i tried it i couldn’t talk for two days.”

“Better not,” Edge’s voice was anything but normal, low and smoky, inviting the sorts of things that usually stirred up plenty of different emotions in Stretch’s rib cage, all the way down to his pelvis, and wasn’t it a damn shame his soul was all full up right now. Edge went on, as thick and sweet as the honey Stretch tended to crave. “you’ll want to save your voice for something better.”

“yeah, about that,” Stretch poked at his empty pudding cup, his spoon rattling, “actually, i think i’m gonna head home.”

Edge frowned. Rightfully so, Stretch didn’t usually turn down sex, it was a better dessert than any at the trucks, even the lava chocolate cakes that always sold out. “Are you all right?”

“just a little tired,” Stretch shrugged. “think i’ll turn in early.” He didn’t mention low HP and neither did Edge, who only nodded.

“Then let me drop you off,” Edge started gathering up their trash, separating it out and bagging it up to dump in his home recycling. “You’ll be on the bus for an hour.”

There wasn’t a good reason for Stretch to refuse, so he didn’t. He sat on the passenger side and closed his sockets, let the motion of the car and the shitty crooner music that Edge listened to lull him into a near-sleep. The ride was too short for him to zonk out entirely, but he was still drowsy when Edge nudged him, let him steal a brief, easy kiss before he slid out the door into the parking lot of his apartment building.

Stretch waved as Edge drove away, then bypassed the front door entirely and instead took a shortcut upstairs. Not inside his apartment, but to the fire escape that everyone in the building used instead as a sort of rattling balcony. There was a ratty deckchair in the corner, shoved in tight to keep from impeding the steps, and that was where Stretch sat as he dug out his cigarettes. 

He was halfway through the first, basking in the nicotine rush, when he heard the window opening above him then boots on metal steps. He sank deeper into the creaky chair, bracing himself.

“Papy!” Blue called happily as he descended the stairs. His apartment was directly above Stretch’s, their version of a compromise when Stretch gently told his bro that he wanted his own place. The Fell brothers could live together if they wanted and did, and Stretch didn’t judge them for it. But Stretch had let his life revolve around his brother for a long damn time and once they were on the surface, facing the sunshine and an entire change of life, Stretch decided he wanted that change to go a little further and told Blue with as much blunt kindness as he could that he wanted his own place. 

Blue got over it and in Stretch’s opinion, their relationship was better for having a little necessary space. Now his little bro leaned over the last metal rail, his starry eye lights bright as he beamed at Stretch and asked, "Well? How did it go??”

Stretch looked away, blowing out a long stream of silent smoke. 

That eagerness softened, wilted. “Ah. It went like that.”

“yeah,” Stretch stubbed out his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray tucked underneath his chair, lit another. “never even got to ask. guess it’s a good thing i dipped a toe into the river first, bringing up undyne and al’s wedding. didn’t know it was the rubicon i was trying to cross.”

Better than bringing out that little velvet box still tucked away in his hoodie pocket, it seemed. Not like he’d been planning a big production or anything, fuck no, Edge would’ve hated that, already hated it when Humans gave them side-eyes and stares. Nah, the plan was to bring it up casual-like over dessert and now he was pretty fucking glad he hadn’t. The ache in his chest was one he’d get over, give him a few days and a few smokes and he’d be right as rain, left as lightning, all that shit. Having to deal with that hurt on top of Edge turning him down, (rudely, coldly, highly possible, gently, awkwardly, so much worse) wasn’t something he wanted to give a try.

Blue came down the rest of the stairs at a more sedate pace, wrapping both arms around Stretch into a painfully tight hug, “I’m so sorry, brother.”

“eh, probably just as well,” Stretch tossed his second butt into the ashtray and resisted the urge to light another. He’d smoke his way through the pack once Blue went back upstairs, no reason for both of them to be miserable. “he’s working his way up at the embassy, he doesn’t need a lazy shit like me holding him back.”

He could feel Blue struggling not to argue and damn well appreciated it. He wanted to bask in his pain for right now, fucking savor it, his own soul served up as another casualty of the food trucks. Save the rah rah cheerleading for when he was more equipped to hear it. 

“guess i better find out if the jewelry shop take returns or something,” Stretch sighed, “having a wedding ring laying around the house feels a lot like having a loaded gun, you don’t want anyone to find it unexpectedly.”

He fumbled for the little box, absently thinking of what would be a good day to head in to the shop, he was pretty sure he still had the receipt and—

In his hoodie pocket was his lighter, his smokes, a little baggie of dog treats, a handful of change since Stretch was physically incapable of walking past a vending machine, something his collection of small toys and weird condoms would attest to. No black velvet box that would never be opened in offering, showing off a simple pair of bands that he’d spent an hour agonizing over with an exceptionally patient salesperson, cause hell, they’d been not-dating for years now, maybe it was time to toss a label on all this. Except it wasn’t and neither was that little box. 

“it’s not here.” No box. No rings, what the fuck. Horrified realization hit with the force of a two-ton slap. “it must’ve fallen out!” 

“Oh, dear,” Blue tutted, “if it was at the park, someone likely took it.”

“i’d rather they did than him find it! edge gave me a ride home!” Stretch hissed. Panic was tight in his chest, fuck, _fuck_ , “what if it’s in his car? i gotta get it back, i gotta!"

"Brother, calm down,” Blue tried, unconvincingly, “it might not even be in his car.”

“i have to check!” Stretch moaned. He couldn’t let Edge find it first, _fuck_ , somehow he’d stepped out of the path of a speeding car straight into an oncoming semi-truck. “i can't let him find it! fuck!” He latched onto his brother’s shoulders, clutching desperately, “bro, you gotta help me!”

Blue still looked pretty doubtful but this was his brother, his little bro, and for years it’d only been the two of them there for each other, years and tears and love, was there anything they wouldn’t do for each other, even participate in an impromptu jewelry heist? 

So it wasn’t a surprise when Blue nodded, finally, sighing out, “All right, brother, what did you have in mind?”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

“Brother,” Blue sighed as he pulled his car up to curb two houses down from the Fell brother’s home. “I’ve known you for a long time.”

Stretch gave him a sideways look. “we’re brothers, i was literally there when you were born.”

Blue ignored that. “And I know we’ve discussed that shortcutting around is rude, but in this situation, I feel as though you could simply pop into Edge’s garage, look for the ring, and we can be back home in time for the new Napstaton special.”

“oh, that’d be too easy for my life,” Stretch grumbled as he pulled a dark knit ski mask over his skull, drawing it down over his face for maximum espionage. The last thing he needed was his white-ass noggin out there bobbing around like a second moon. “i can’t shortcut in. red rigged up some kinda anti-teleportation field around their house, ever since sans stashed all that nitrogen-frozen shaving cream in red’s room.” He tried to flash Blue a grin before he remembered the damn mask. “can’t blame him even if it was funny as hell. i doubt his room has been that clean before or since.”

“Yes, I remember that. Edge wasn’t as amused.”

“that’s ‘cause his sense of humor is atrophied from disuse, we’re working on it. so if shortcuts are out, we gotta be discreet. which is why you should’ve changed when i asked!" Stretch said accusingly. He glared at Blue's bright pink She-Ra t-shirt, showcasing Catra and Adora in a loving embrace. The sentiment was appreciated, the color, not so much, his bro was gonna stand out like an adorably affectionate beacon. 

“My apologies for not owning any cat burglar gear, I missed out on auditioning for the remake of Ocean’s 11. Really, brother, we’re breaking into one garage, not a casino vault.” Blue sighed again and turned off the car. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“none of this was a good idea, but here i am.” Should’ve known it was a mistake the second he walked into the jewelry store, could’ve wasted a lot less time if he’d probed Edge for marriage opinions before he opened his wallet. But there wasn’t time (heh) for him to work out his own version of ‘Back to the Future’, so they were gonna have to stick with heist movie.

Stretch got out of the car and skulked closer, inspecting their surroundings, Blue following reluctantly behind. The sidewalks were empty, everyone else was sensibly inside watching their preferred nighttime entertainment since it was dark except for the bright streetlamps positioned evenly down the length of the block. 

Stretch paused outside the ring of light by the Fell home, summoning a small, sharpened bone. At his elbow, Blue asked worriedly, “What are you doing?”

“i’m gonna break the streetlamp so no one can see us.”

Blue grabbed his hand, hissing, “You are not! I did not sign on for destruction of property! Unscrew the bulb and we can tighten it again when we leave!”

Okay, to be fair that was a much better idea, even if it took a lot more concentration and a quick mental ‘righty tighty, lefty loosey’. With a little effort, Stretch managed to coax the oversized bulb loose and the light went abruptly dark. Perfect.

The two of them crept closer to the house and if Blue was humming the ‘mission impossible’ theme song under his breath, Stretch couldn’t exactly gripe at him. He’d had it blaring nonstop in the back of his head since they’d left the apartments. They paused by the well-trimmed shrubs that ran alongside the garage while Stretch considered the plan. 

Opening the main garage door was out. Even if Stretch could clip the house alarm, there was no way one of the Fell brothers wouldn’t hear that grinding its way open. Reconnaissance was supposed to happen before the damned heist, every movie Stretch ever saw taught him that, but they were working in a time crunch and wasn’t it a shame that the only room in the Fell house that he knew with any real detail was Edge’s bedroom. Also the shower, but neither of those options were real useful right now.

He looked around, squinting through the dimness, hell, they should’ve done this before he killed the streetlight. To his relief, he could see the outline of window in the shadows, up high on garage wall. He gestured to it, whispering to Blue, “give me up boost up.”

Blue gulped visibly and reached out, the faintest glow rising in his fingers. There was a soft ting as his magic enveloped Stretch’s soul, lifting him off his feet and towards the window. Or more like sending him on an increasingly wobbly flight through the air, limbs dangling as he slowly rose. Stretch bit back a squawk as the grip on his soul twisted him nearly sideways, then hastily overcompensated in the other direction to almost send him careening into the building.

“careful!” Stretch whispered furiously, biting back a curse as he shoved away from the wall. “seriously, what have you been learning with all that training you do!”

“I’m terribly sorry, Alphys never covered breaking and entering!” Blue hissed. Sweat was visibly standing out on his skull, glimmering in the moonlight. Another minute of unstable and slightly painful antigravity later and Stretch was hovering outside the window. 

His black hoodie was a better choice for more than the color. Its pockets zipped securely shut, holding his tiny collection of burglary tools safe and sound. If Stretch’d been wearing this one earlier, none of this would be happening and wasn’t hindsight a nosy bitch. He dug out his tools, flicking on a penlight to inspect what the paranoid goblin had going for home security. There was an alarm, to be expected, but it looked like a simple wire job. All Stretch needed was five minutes and a pair of wire snips and he’d be inside. 

“Oh!” his brother’s voice suddenly carried through the quiet, too loud and verging on a panicked cheer, “Good evening, Mrs. Gerson!” 

Stretch’s head whipped around to see an elderly turtle Monster gradually walking up to Blue, cane in hand and waving with dreamy slowness. He couldn’t hear what she said to Blue, but his brother’s voice came loud and clear, “Yes, working on my _stretching_ exercises! I do them for a _few minutes_ every day. Trying to _hurry up_ with it today, it’s later than I thought!”

Not exactly what he’d call discreet, yeah, but Stretch sure as hell got the message.

Frantically, Stretch got to work on the wires, clipping and twisting them into a messy sort of bypass. There was no time to be tidy, not while he was dangling here like a bargain basement Spider-man as Blue tried to keep Mrs. Doubtfire distracted over there. A muffled grunt escaped as Stretch suddenly listed to one side, hanging horizontally in the air. Another twist sent him face-first into the wall and Stretch tried to brace himself against the siding, biting off a yelp as he was dragged noisily upward.

“Whoops,” Blue called in a loud, nervous chuckle, hopefully covering the rattle of bones whacking into the side of a damn wall, “I think I still need to hold that stretch for another couple of minutes.” From this angle, Stretch had no idea what Mrs. Gerson was making of the washboard sound of him lurching up and down the siding like mysterious jug band traveling through the night, “Goodness, not sure how much longer I manage!”

Whatever calisthenics Blue was doing finally bent him in a direction that was close enough to the window for him to reach. Stretch grabbed on, hauling himself upright and holding on frantically with one hand as he clipped the last wire. He shoved up the windowpane, wincing as it screeched ominously the way windows only did in the middle of the damn night when someone was trying to sneak through it. He didn’t wait for Blue to try breaking out in song to cover it up, diving through the narrow panel and nearly tumbled straight to the concrete floor as his brother’s magic released, barely managing to catch himself and drop clumsily to his feet. 

Okay, that went well.

Damn good thing he was breaking into Edge’s garage; the entire thing was pin-neat, no suspicious stack of paint cans to knock over or a pile of trash bags to fall into. Only tools on the wall, a clean workbench, and the pristine shape of his car precisely in its place, gleaming metallic cherry-red beneath the narrow beam of the penlight.

Now all Stretch had to do was get into it. A slim jim tool was out, for several reasons. One, despite watching several youtube videos on his way over, Stretch was not confident he could do it, two, it might damage Edge’s car and that was right out. 

There was also the small matter that Stretch didn’t have a slim jim, so that left trying to hack into Edge’s Onstar account to wirelessly unlock it.

That he could probably manage and he spent a long, sweaty ten minutes on his phone, wrangling through firewalls and password detectors, searching and fruitlessly guessing, getting more frantic by the second as he silently cursed paranoid fucking Fells and it was only when despair was setting in that it occurred to him to try the door.

It opened easily under his tentative touch and the amount and variety of swearing that went through his mind right then would have sent Blue sprinting to the nearest grocery store for their entire stock of soap.

Okay, no more time for distractions, the finish line was in sight. Stretch crawled inside, penlight flashing as he searched frantically through the interior. 

Not that there was much to see, Edge kept his car painfully clean. Even the mats were glossy black, not a speck of dust on the control panel, no stray fries or pennies caught in-between the seats. His panic was hitting all new highs when the light caught on dark velvet wedged in between the passenger seat and the door. 

It must’ve fallen when he got out and Stretch picked it up, his knees watery-weak with relief as he opened it to look at the rings which, stupid, what was he afraid he got the wrong velvet box?

Time to get out of here, rescue Blue from Granny Mcgee and get the fuck out for the celebratory fist bump, and he barely had time to even think it when the overhead light came on at the same moment a much harsher blue magic than his brother’s took hold of his soul and slammed him painfully into the garage door. It knocked the breath out of him and Stretch hung there, wheezing, the box clutched tightly in his fingers as the last voice he wanted to hear echoed coldly through the garage. 

“Stop struggling.”

Fearfully, Stretch lifted his head to see Edge strolling in through the doorway and it was honestly impressive how imposing he could be in a pair of silk pajamas and slippers.

“I’m afraid you’ve chosen the wrong car to steal, thief, I’m rather fond of it, I—” Edge stopped, his eye sockets narrowing and Stretch cringed as he reached out and roughly tore the ski mask off. His sockets widened in disbelief. “Stretch?”

“um. hey.” Stretch waved feebly with his empty hand.

“What the hell are you doing,” Edge sputtered out, cold anger melting into clear upset, “I could have hurt you!”

Yeah and sweat was running down his tailbone just thinking about it. Good thing it was Edge and not Red who found him, the gremlin might’ve dusted first and felt a micron of guilt later.

Stretch waggled his feet in the empty air. “um. gonna let me down?”

Edge’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll consider it. What are you doing here and if I hear the words shaving cream, I’ll—"

“no! no, nothing like that,” Stretch blurted in automatic denial and regretted it immediately. Shit, mistake, probably should’ve let Edge believe it was a prank of some sort, let him get mad and yell. He would’ve gotten over it eventually and they could’ve gotten back to their non-dates and twice weekly sexytimes with the occasional overnight thrown in for extra flavor. Except, Stretch didn’t like it when Edge was mad at him and not just mad, he would’ve been disappointed, even hurt, because any prank that involved his car was taking it up to a level of cruel. Edge’s car was his baby and Stretch wouldn’t do that to him, never never ever. 

Didn’t matter, he’d sort of lost his chance to go with prank when he denied it was one, so there was nothing left but some version of the truth. Stretch took a deep breath and went with the basics, “i left something in your car, is all. didn’t want to bug you to get it, not after begging off on you. stupid, i know.”

“Very stupid,” Edge agreed, “considering that we have motion sensors in the garage.”

Of course he fucking did. “yeah, um, sorry.” Now that a portion of the truth was out there, time for a distraction. Hanging on the wall like a modern art installation probably wasn’t giving off the sexiest vibes, but Stretch gave it a shot, calling up what he hoped passed for an enticing smile, running his tongue lightly across his teeth, “’m feeling a lot better now, though, could head upstairs if you want, make up for a little lost time…?”

Edge raised a silencing hand and Stretch reluctantly obeyed, ah, fuck, he was too late, Edge was _thinking_ about it, shit, and proved it by saying, slowly, “Let me see if I understand. You left something in my car and decided you needed to break into my home, bypass the alarm, pick the locks, and skulk through my garage to get it instead of simply asking me?" Edge crossed his arms over his chest and the intensity of his glare went up a notch, "No."

"no?" Stretch parroted, confused. 

"No, that goes beyond the bounds of suspending my disbelief, so you're lying." Edge’s sockets narrowed and Stretch flinched from the true anger he could see there, "I do not like liars or thieves, so show me what you took."

His grip tightened around the velvet box. “but i don’t—”

“Show me,” Edge barked out.

Humiliating tears started welling, fuck, this wasn’t the time for it, all his earlier disappointment rising back up chokingly painful in his soul as Stretch whispered brokenly, "please don't make me."

Edge’s grip on his soul wavered, sending him sliding down an inch as that anger faded into bewilderment, "What… _you_ broke into _my_ garage, why are you—just show me!"

Miserably, Stretch held out the velvet box, let Edge snatch it away. From his continued confusion, he still didn't get it, not until he popped it open. The bands gleamed garishly in the overhead lights, carbon tungsten because the salesman assured him that it was extremely durable, with a twined color strip woven through the black metal of orange and red. Their colors joined together the way Stretch had hoped, stupidly, that their lives would. 

Dawning realization as Edge looked from the rings to Stretch and back, again, and once more for good measure.

"Oh," Edge said blankly.

"yeah,” Stretch said, tiredly. “can you put me down now?"

Hastily, he did. "Stretch--" Edge began, all awkward gentleness now, the ring box still open in his hand like a mockery of Stretch’s hopeful daydreams and wasn’t that just typical of his life?

And Stretch just couldn’t. He couldn’t listen to the pity he could already see in Edge’s eye lights, he _couldn’t_ , not right now with what felt like his entire soul choking in his throat. Red’s little shortcut blocker worked for going in, but not out and now that Edge didn’t have him pinned, Stretch was fucking _gone_. Stumbling out onto the sidewalk outside and almost went to his knees right where Blue was still chatting awkwardly with Mrs. Gerson. 

“we need to go,” Stretch blurted. “right now!” And when Blue didn’t move fast enough, Stretch grabbed him around the waist and yanked him off his feet. Let someone else get dragged around for a change tonight, Stretch was sick of it, felt bruised inside and out as he dashed over to the car. 

“Oof, bro-oth-er!” Blue yelped as he was all but bowled into the driver’s seat while Stretch scrambled over to the passenger side “What on earth is going on?!”

“go!” Stretch pleaded, “just go, i’ll explain at home.”

Blue probably would’ve put up more of a fight, sure as hell would with any other brotherly manhandling, but he caught sight of tears starting to boil down Stretch’s cheek bones and instead fumbled for his keys. “All right, we’re going.”

The engine started and he began to pull away…right into a massive cage of bones grinding up around the car from the ground, chunks of asphalt falling from the jagged tips. Directly in front of them was Edge, both hands flung out and his roused magic surrounding him in a fiery aura. His crimson eye lights blazed as he forcibly held them back in a glorious depiction of viciously controlled power even while he was still in those damn silk pajamas and slippers.

Really, it was damned impressive. He was fucking _gorgeous_ and Stretch hated himself for noticing, for even thinking it. 

“Turn off the car,” Edge said, loudly, and Blue did, sitting mutely as Edge let his magic fade. He walked over the passenger side and opened the door, leaning in as he said evenly, “I think we need to talk, don’t you?”

Stretch buried his face into his hands and wondered if he could get away with a ‘fuck, no.’

He dared to look out and from the expression on Edge’s face, fleeing was only gonna lead to a wild hunt through the city and Blue already said he didn’t want any property damage.

Might as well get it over with. Stretch nodded and impatiently wiped his face on his sleeves as he got out of the car. He couldn’t even be insulted when Edge firmly grabbed his elbow and held on, leading him towards the house despite the way Stretch’s sneakers dragged through the crumbled remains of the road.

Mrs. Gerson smiled and nodded as they walked past, waving as she croaked out, “Have a good night, boys!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gerson,” they said in unison, Edge crisply polite and Stretch a dismal mutter. 

Edge unlocked the front door, pushing Stretch through it and he didn’t look up, not at Red who was on sofa, sitting up from his slouch with a genuinely startled, “what the fuck…?” and not at Edge, who ignored his brother to guide him up the stairs to his bedroom. 

He closed the door and firmly set Stretch in the desk chair while Edge sat across from him on the bed. 

“All right,” Edge said. He held out the ring box, blessedly closed, hiding the contents that Stretch was pretty sure he never wanted to see again; he’d rather toss them in the trash than try to return them at this point, “Now. Start from the beginning.”

* * *

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Edge was still waiting patiently for Stretch to pick up the ball of conversation he’d tossed in his direction and since talking was way down on the list of what Stretch actually wanted to do, he let it fall to the ground between them, rolling around loose.

The bedroom was at least a room he knew, even if he wasn’t usually upright when he saw it. The contrast to his own shabby chic was always impressive; there were no balled-up socks on the floor, no collection of dishes waiting with dismal hope for their chance to hit the dishwasher. Not perfect, though, not tonight. The blankets were drawn down and there was a book lying on the bed, a mug sitting on the side table. All clear signs that Edge had probably been settled all cozy into bed, ready to dive into his secret stash of trashy dime novels when he clued into their silent alarm.

Now he was sitting on the bed all but aiming the ring box at Stretch’s head as he picked up the conversation he’d dropped. “I understand you not wanting me to see these, but I’m failing to see why you thought committing a possible felony was the best route to keep it from happening.”

“oh, come on,” Stretch let out a dismal laugh, “seriously? like you would’ve let me root through your car without seeing what it was?” He’d learned a long time ago not to take Edge’s distrust personally, especially since Red was usually higher than he was on Edge’s shit list. 

Edge hummed thoughtfully, “True, but what was stopping you from showing me literally anything else? A lucky lighter or one of those atrocious little toys you always have. I would never have known the difference.”

“yeah, that’s actually a pretty good idea,” Stretch groaned, sagging back in his chair, “shame i didn’t get your input earlier.”

“Well,” Edge didn’t open the box again, only twisted it in his hands. “That doesn’t really matter. I have seen them. Stretch?” 

That was a hint for him to get talking and, fuck, did he want a cigarette, a little numbing nicotine buffer would go down swell right about now. Stretch went ahead and fumbled out his lighter but left his smokes where they were. He knew better than to try smoking in Edge’s room, adding a sprinkle of annoyance on top of this meal probably wouldn’t end well. Or maybe he should go ahead, he had a feeling this wasn’t going to end his favor, anyway. He thumbed the rasp of his lighter, watched the little spark form. “i don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“Perhaps some insight into what you were thinking would be a good place to start,” Edge leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “We don’t even live together and here you are planning proposals?”

Said like that, it didn’t sound like he was thinking at all, not past the simple fact that when he heard about Alphys and Undyne planning to get hitched, he sort of…wanted that, for himself, and everything that came with it. He’d spent all day thinking about it, letting different scenarios play out in his head where Edge would say yes and maybe kiss him in the park right in front of everyone and then they’d all break into applause because hell, if you’re gonna daydream, do it right.

He’d even talked about it with Blue, a little piggly wiggly before he went whole hog with the shopping, but now that his head was below the clouds, Stretch figured that his bro probably wasn’t an impartial audience. He’d gone starry eyed, literally, yammering about planning weddings and flowers, hell, they’d both gotten swept up in the idea and before he knew it, he had rings and something like a plan to propose. Probably should’ve felt it out sooner to make sure he had a groom before they’d started thinking about receptions. The way this was going, the only thing he was gonna be going home with was his bruises, fuck the rings. He was gonna toss them out the window on the drive.

“all right, i was stupid, is that what you want to hear?” Stretch hunched over, wrapped his arms around himself. His head ached and so did, well, all of him, his reward for spending the evening getting knocked into walls. Worse was the tightness inside his chest, his soul squeezing together disappointment and hurt. “just give me those and let me go home.”

The gentle touch on the back of his skull startled him. Edge’s hand slid down to cup his cheek bone, trying to urge him to look up. “Don’t say that, you aren’t stupid. Stretch, I care about you, you do know that.”

“yeah.” The word came out small and he couldn’t keep the miserable hurt out of it. Cared. Yeah, right.

A soft sigh, then, roughly, “Fine, I love you. I have said it before.”

He had, a couple of times during sex and the more this chat dragged on, the dumber his impulse to buy rings seemed. He’d been blinded by his own hopes and goaded by Blue’s eagerness, thinking he and Edge were on the same page when a quick glance up at Edge’s impatient frown seemed to confirm they weren’t even in the same section of the librarby.

“All right, this isn’t working," Edge announced as he abruptly stood, "all I’m doing is hurting you.” Stretch squawked as Edge scooped him up right out of the chair and for one absurd second, he panickily thought he was about to get tossed out the door.

Instead, Edge settled them both on the bed, leaning against the headboard with Stretch lying back between his spread legs.

Okay, yeah, that helped, a little. Edge was warm and solid behind him, pressing soft kisses to Stretch’s skull as his gloved hands soothed over him. He made a quiet sound of dismay when he found a bruise, probably leftover from Blue's attempt at scrubbing him against the garage, and brushed a gentler kiss over it, his breath a soft gust as he said, “All right. Let’s talk about marriage, then.” 

Stretch squirmed, but it wasn’t their position bringing the uncomfortable, "why? we already talked about marriage, you were _very_ clear on your opinion.”

“I know what I said, I was there. Now I’d like to talk about Underfell marriage. If I may?”

Then, despite his little announcement, Edge didn’t say anything. His hands moved absently, following the lines of Stretch’s jaw, down the bumps of his vertebrae to toy with the strings on his hoodie. The silence drew out, but Stretch didn’t rush him; the sooner Edge spoke, the less time he’d have to be here in his arms. 

“Marriage in Underfell isn’t like here,” Edge said at last. That flatness in his voice was familiar, a relic from his old world; he always sounded like that when he talked about Underfell, like he couldn’t bear to discuss it if he didn’t have his mental shields in place, and Stretch hated himself, a little, for forcing Edge to dredge them up. “Generally, it was only done by royal decree. Asgore would arrange marriages to encourage offspring for his army, without any care for the wishes of the Monsters involved. I know your experience is different, but when I consider marriage, it is not a loving bond, it’s little more than royally sanctioned slavery.”

“I’m not liking the sound of that,” Stretch admitted. A soft puff of amused breath gusted over his cervical vertebrae in a soundless chuckle, that flat coldness fading.

“Neither do I,” Edge agreed, “We were on the surface for some time before I understood the differences here, but even in this world, it seems to be a contrivance that’s easily cast aside in divorce and used mostly for health benefits and to assign a next of kin.” Gloved fingers slipped beneath Stretch’s chin, urging him to look up into Edge’s gaze. “That brings us back here, to our relationship. What we have is entirely by our own consent and our freedom to choose.”

“And that’s fine,” Stretch said, trying to keep the desperation at a minimum, “we can keep doing that.”

Edge shook his head. “I don’t think we can. Because that’s what I want. It’s not fair to you, if you want more.”

Stretch tried to swallow around the sudden lump of his soul rising into his throat, managed to mumble out, “please don’t dump me.”

Not that he’d blame Edge if he did, ill-considered proposals followed by breaking and entering were probably not anywhere on Edge’s list of fun weekday activities.

It was impressive the way Edge managed to fit so much exasperation into an expression that barely changed, “I’m not about to leave you for loving me. If you care to recall, I love you, too,” He leaned in to brush a soft kiss over Stretch’s mouth and that simple, gentle touch wrung most of the aching fears out of the Stretch’s soul, relief surging in to fill the new real estate. He didn’t linger, drawing back to say, “And there were loving bonds in Underfell, they simply weren’t ones of marriage.”

“okay. then what would a loving bond be like?” He had to assume that’s where Edge was leading this, and how the hell did he always managed to be straightforward in such a roundabout way.

Edge hesitated and Stretch wondered at his answer, but what he got was, “Will you wait here until I come back? Please?”

That meant moving so Edge could get up and as much as Stretch wanted to latch on and cling ‘till dawn or joint cramps, that was probably not the multiple choice answer he was looking for. So he went with the first option and reluctantly rolled off to let Edge get up. As long as he was going solo on the bed, Stretch took the chance to kick off his shoes, hey, the deeper he got under the covers, the harder it was for Edge to toss him out. Edge didn’t protest when Stretch burrowed into the blankets, only paused at the door and called, “If either of you are out there when I open this door, I will make you regret it.”

There was a muffled thump, the sound of brothers frantically scrambling away.

Typical. “you still got it, babe.”

“That implies I could possibly lose it.” Edge walked on out, closing the door behind him for which Stretch would always be grateful. He couldn’t do much about their brothers’ intense need to meddle, but he didn’t really want their podcast switching to pay-per-view.

Edge wasn’t gone long and when he came back, Stretch couldn’t really figure out why he left in the first place. He didn’t pull Stretch back in for another round of spoons, either, instead sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets. 

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that each section of the Underground had its own societal quirks,” Edge said, softly. He shifted a little, then again, and Stretch realized abruptly that he was actually _fidgeting_ , seriously, this was a night of strange happenings. “Snowdin was far enough away from New Home to come up with its own way of handling familial bonds. My brother and I assumed them not long after we moved there and I joined the guard.” His gaze moved over Stretch’s face searchingly, “You’re aware that Red wears my collar.” 

“yeah, of course,” Stretch said. All of them learned real quick that dog jokes did not go over well with either of the Fell brothers.

Edge nodded. “I believe the trend may have started with the Dog family, but it took hold quickly. Collars are distinctly visible from some distance with little room for protesting about misunderstandings. Red’s collar distinguishes him as being my brother and under my protection in a way that no one can mistake. Children often wore collars that allowed others to easily identify their parents. And—”

He hesitated again, shifted again in that peculiar fidget, then moved his arm. From his sleeve slid a long, plain box and he didn’t hesitate, boldly handing it to Stretch without another word.

The white cardboard revealed nothing and when Stretch cautiously lifted the lid, all his prickling suspicions were confirmed. 

A simple collar, plain leather with none of the spikes that poked out threateningly from Red’s. 

Hesitantly, Stretch picked it up, draping it over his hand. The leather was buttery soft, a narrow glossy black backlined with a border of rich crimson. The burnished buckle was delicately tooled into the shape of a soul, what Humans always wanted to call a heart. Lovely and simple, subtle instead of blatant. There weren’t many people who’d get the implications here, but as of about ten minutes ago, Stretch was one of them. 

“oh,” Stretch said quietly. 

“I had it made a few weeks ago,” Edge said hurriedly. He reached over to run his thumb down the length of it, more deep red against black. “Although I will admit, I wasn’t expecting this conversation to come up so soon.” His chuckle was tinging on shrill, holy shit, he was nervous, after everything tonight, how could he be…? “It would be considered a betrothal collar. Not a marriage, but a promise to a certain level of commitment to each other. I’m aware that it isn’t what you were hoping for—”

The words broke off as Stretch flung himself at Edge, kissing him silent, and then not so silent, a groan muffled between their mouths as Stretch straddled him. It shifted to a sound of displeasure as Stretch drew back, but he knew where that road ended and there was something that needed to be done before they hit the delicious trail.

The box and collar had fallen beside them onto the blankets and Stretch picked it up, holding it out as he asked, “can you put it on me?” 

Edge rose up on his elbows and took the collar, and the rough way he said, ‘of course,’ almost ended him right back on the bed. 

Down, boy, Stretch told himself, tipping his head back to exposing the line of his cervical vertebra. The leather was cool against his bones as it circled them, the buckle cooler still and hardly took a moment for the collar to settle. Stretch looked back down, taking in the deep satisfaction in Edge’s crimson eye lights, swallowing hard at the way they moved over him, lingering on the collar. 

Oh, he could feel it when he swallowed and Stretch did it again, just to feel that faint rise and fall. 

“does it look okay?” Like he even needed to ask. 

In answer, Edge made a hungry sound and lurched up to take his mouth again, abruptly rolling them both until he was on top, his weight was settled between Stretch’s spread femurs, heavy and perfect. He kissed his way lower, down the line of Stretch’s jaw to the collar and Stretch shuddered at the feel of his tongue testing the difference between delicate bone and leather.

A gloved hand starting to work its way beneath the dark hoodie, oh, fuck yes, maybe the game tonight ended on an unexpected score, but they were going into overtime and— 

It would probably be pretty rude to shout ‘fuck off’ at the knock on the door. Especially when his brother’s voice followed it. 

“Can I please go home now?” Blue asked plaintively. “because I could use a hand, there’s a great deal of, well, road under and around my car, and not in the good way!”

“think we can talk him into sleeping over with red?” Stretch whispered.

“I think that merely assisting in a felony shouldn’t involve cruel and unusual punishment,” Edge said dryly, then called, “Hold on a moment, we’ll be right there.”

With a grimace, he rolled to his feet and Stretch started to follow, wincing as he accidently knelt on something hard, what the hell…he dug through the covers to pull out whatever trap was hidden in Edge’s bed, but what he pulled out was the ring box.

Oh.

It still pinched a little to see it, surrounded by all those deflated daydreams, and Stretch started stuffing it into his pocket, trying to laugh it off, “i’ll give ‘em to blue to toss into my place, see what the return policy is in the morning.”

A light touch on his arm stopped him.

“Don’t,” Edge said quietly. 

“but—", and he’d said it before, a wedding ring laying around the house was like having a loaded gun, and Stretch was fast figuring out that neither should go off prematurely. 

“Hold on to them,” Edge paused, struggling for words, then asked, pleadingly, “Give me time?” And it was stupid for that to make Stretch soul swell with love and hope and every other damn soft emotion that could cram its way in, but eh, he’d always said he was idiot. Might as well hold the title for it.

Stretch cleared his throat and managed a hoarse, “babe, you can have all the time in the world.” And then it was his turn for kisses, kept them as soft and reassuring as the collar around his throat.

“Thank you,” Edge murmured against his mouth. Then he pulled away with a grudging sigh and headed for the door. 

Stretch touched the collar at his throat lightly. A level of commitment, Edge said, and fuck it, may as well go for broke, “you think we could go out on a date this weekend?”

Edge paused with the doorknob in hand, frowning faintly, “We have a standing date every Saturday for movies and dinner.”

“yeah, but.” But that usually included their brothers, along with Sans and Papyrus, and look, Stretch was openminded, but a six-way split was out. “how about something that’s just you and me?”

“Of course,” Edge said, surprised and pleased. “What did you have in mind?”

‘Anything with you’ probably came off as slightly desperate, so Stretch improvised, “let me surprise you.”

Which was code for ‘I have no idea, give me a day to panic and figure things out’. Good thing Edge spoke his language, he only smiled faintly and agreed, “All right.”

A date, Stretch thought giddily, a real date, and maybe proposals were off the table for now, but not for never.

Blue and Red were sitting on the sofa when they came down and Stretch couldn’t see Edge’s face, but he could see Red’s and knew the second he caught sight of the collar. The shifting emotions pouring across his face could’ve been made into a short film for Sundance, but in the end Red only slouched further into the sofa, and if he looked smug, eh, Stretch was feeling charitable, he’d give him that one. 

Blue was less happy and followed anxiously behind as Edge led the way out to his car. “What happened?” he hissed.

“i’ll tell you later,” Stretch whispered furiously out of the corner of his mouth and at Blue’s doubtful look, he sighed out, “promise.”

He didn’t miss the way Blue glanced at the collar, but he blessedly didn’t ask. An hour in Red’s company was a good way to make even the stoutest teetotaler beg for a drink and Stretch didn’t want to stand in the way of his brother’s well-deserved hangover. Between the three of them, they got Blue’s car clear of the rubble and off he went, tires squealing and leaving Edge and Stretch standing alone beneath the darkened streetlight.

He missed out on getting the post-engagement kisses of his dreams, but suddenly getting swept up into Edge’s arms on an empty street was a pretty close second. 

“Now, where were we?” Edge murmured. He paused with his mouth a breath away from Stretch’s, “Wait. How _did_ you get in the garage?”

“um,” Stretch hedged, because that was sort of one of those secrets he was hoping to take to his grave. 

Rescue came from an unexpected source, in the form of a hoarse, cheery voice, “Still up tonight, boys?”

Edge turned, carrying Stretch with him, to see Mrs. Gerson making her slow way down the road. Huh, she’d made it a whole house down since they last saw her.

“Not for much longer,” Edge said, politely, “Good night, Mrs. Gerson.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, carrying Stretch back to the house and yeah, it wasn’t a happily ever after, not yet. 

But it was on the right path.

-finis-


End file.
